MALIK :: ZAYN

nine | diversity

°•

"Yes, mom, I promise," she replied as she walked with Zayn into the airport. A Bluetooth device was in her ear as she pulled two suitcases alongside her and struggled to keep up with Zayn.

Plus, he was a multimillionaire, so paparazzi followed him every time he went to the airport or any big event. The lights were almost blinding Crissle and she was so over the whole experience.

Meanwhile, Zayn was in business mode, meaning, the cold eyed man was present instead of the adorable boy she saw on the fifth floor. He wasn't harsh to her, though, just anyone else who was in the way.

"Mr. Malik--" one of his guards began.

"Hold on just a second," he replied, looking at Crissle for longer than needed before taking one of her bags and following the security guard to the plane.

Crissle's jaw dropped but she quickly composed herself, continuing the conversations with her mom and catching up the the two fast walking men.

"Enjoy your flight, sir," the guard said, taking his suitcases and Crissle's with him. Zayn looked back and gestured for her to go first, so she did. The paparazzi followed the all the way to the gate, still taking pictures even when they were safely inside the private jet.

"Have fun, pumpkin," her mom said happily. Crissle and Zayn sat down in seats across from each other.

"Mom, it's business, you're not supposed to have fun."

Zayn quirked an eyebrow but she ignored him.

"Yeah, okay. I love you too, bye," she pulled the stupid device off her ear and threw it in the carry on. A stewardess offered them both a drink and Crissle declined. But of course, Zayn took the offer.

"Business isn't fun," Zayn repeated her words, taking a gulp of his champagne and swallowing, "says who?"

"Says me," she crossed her legs and pulled her skirt a little lower, "these trips are boring, Zayn."

"That's because you're with the wrong person," he explained, resting his feet on the seat across from him, "I always have fun."

"You're probably around the right people," Crissle scoffed, "and you get to fuck."

"Who says I won't this time?" he smirked.

"Don't get cocky, Malik," she challenged, "I'm not falling for it."

He bit his lip. "Who says I was talking about fucking you?"

She paused. No one asked, she just assumed.

"Exact--"

"You're not bringing a girl in our room," she ordered, we sleep in the same bed, "which I still don't know why--"

"S'cheaper," he shrugged.

Crissle scoffed. "As if you need to worry about what's cheaper."

He stared at her, a gleam in his eye. "You like me, Ms. Sinclair."

"You like me, Mr. Malik," she retorted.

Zayn nodded dismissively, his lip still between his teeth. "I guess whatever happens, happens."

"We'll see."

"We definitely will."

°•

"So, what exactly am I looking at?" Zayn demanded in a clipped tone.

The head of the building, Mr. Jericho, started to sweat. "Zayn, this is what you proposed in the last meeting, so--"